Lab Rats
by serennog
Summary: An accumulation of FitzSimmons drabbles, originally posted individually on my Tumblr. Chapter Five: "The Importance of Knocking", "Twister" & "Turncoat".
1. Chapter One

**LAB RATS**

_by serennog_

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Summary: An accumulation of FitzSimmons drabbles, originally posted individually on my Tumblr.

Disclaimer: AoS is the property of Marvel and ABC Productions. I own nothing.

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_**001.**_

**I've Got You**

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She's falling again, the air rushing past her with a freight train's roar. Her mouth is open in a silent scream as she plummets and reels, and despite her disorientation, she's explicitly aware of two things.

One: she's going to die.

Two: she'll never see Fitz again.

She doesn't know which grieves her more.

"Shh."

The nightmare fades as a warm presence materialises at her back and a pair of arms ground her.

"Shh. I've got you."

She feels the press of lips against her temple and lets out one final quavering whimper before her terror subsides.

"You've got me."

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_**002.**_

**The Name Game**

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"There's no way we're calling it that."

Fitz looked so affronted that Jemma couldn't help but let her stern look melt away.

"What's wrong with 'Junior'?"

"It's so…" Jemma wrinkled her nose. "Generic."

Fitz scoffed, but pulled her closer regardless. "Well if you'd just let them tell you the gender-"

"But I want to be surprised." She shot him her best pout. He sighed.

"Fine. Since you've _obviously_ got better ideas, spill."

"How about 'Alastair' for your father, if it's a boy? 'Megan' for a girl?…"

Fitz's smile was mischievous. "I still think 'Junior' has a nice ring to it."

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_**003.**_

**The Female of the Species**

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"Give me the device," says the brute in his thick Russian accent.

While the night-night gun is not entirely steady in Jemma's hands, her expression is deadly, and beneath his panic Fitz feels both pride and something else. Something that makes his blood run hot.

He clears his throat nervously.

"Maybe we should give the man what he wants."

"Not helping," Jemma sings.

The big Russian suddenly lunges with a growl, and Jemma shrieks, instinctively pulling the trigger.

Their attacker drops like a sack of potatoes.

"See? Nothing to-"

Fitz smothers the remainder of Jemma's comment with a kiss.

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	2. Chapter Two

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_**004.**_

**Truth or Dare**

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"Truth or dare?"

Fitz pretends to think about it.

"Truth."

Jemma shakes her head and attempts a stern look, failing miserably as a smile teases the corners of her mouth. "Not allowed."

"You gave me the option."

"And you pick 'truth' _every single time_."

"Alright," says Fitz grimly. "_Fine_." He takes a fortifying swallow of beer. "Dare."

Jemma's answering smile is almost wicked.

"I dare you to plant an article of Skye's clothing in Ward's cabin."

Fitz nearly chokes. "You're _joking_."

Jemma grins. "Quick. Before they finish their game of Battleship."

"Next time," grumbles Fitz, rising, "I'll stick to 'truth'."

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_**005.**_

**The Christmas Tree**

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"No, no, no. Not there. You know the rule. No two baubles of the same colour next to each other."

Jemma sighed, shooting Fitz a half-hearted scowl over her shoulder. "You suck all the fun out of decorating a Christmas tree."

Fitz spluttered a moment. "I like an even distribution of colours," he said defensively. "Makes the finished product more aesthetically pleasing."

Jemma rolled her eyes, but obediently took the blue bauble off its branch and hung it next to a silver one. "There. Better?"

"Much."

Jemma smiled, shaking her head in mock despair. "Fusspot," she muttered.

"I heard that."

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_**006.**_

**Let Go**

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Jemma tries digging the toes of her shoes into the earth but still inches forward on her belly, dragged closer to the cliff's edge by the combined weight of Fitz and the nameless baddie dangling from his ankles.

"Jemma."

When she looks at Fitz's face, it's to find his expression grimmer than she ever remembers seeing it. She knows what he's thinking.

"No." She shakes her head furiously. "I'm not letting go."

There are tears in his eyes and a small, regretful smile on his lips. "Goodbye Jemma."

He loosens his hold and his hands slip right out of hers.

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	3. Chapter Three

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_**007**_

**Now You Know**

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"I'm _furious_ with you!" Jemma stomps through the Bus' common room to its kitchenette, Fitz close on her heels. So much so that he nearly barges into her when she suddenly stops at the fridge for a bottle of water.

"What? About the cliff?" He throws his hands up in exasperation. "Well I _apologise_ for being so unwilling to take you down with me!"

Jemma turns on him with a glare. "Don't joke about it, Fitz. If Ward hadn't come…" She trails off, the fight leaving her.

Sighing, Fitz takes her hand in his. "Now you know how it feels."

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_**008**_

**Wee Bairn**

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"Wee bairn," says Fitz reverently, looking down at the tiny bundle in his arms as though it's a piece of unfamiliar alien technology. Which it kind of is. Because little Megan Fitz is just as fascinating, just as incredible, and just as new to him. "We've done well, haven't we?"

Jemma smiles wearily at them from the hospital bed. "Good genes. She's fair, like you."

Fitz runs a gentle finger over the downy, spun-gold wisps. Megan stirs under his touch, snorting softly, and Fitz's heart melts all over again.

"She'll have your eyes," he solemnly decides. "And your smile."

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_**009**_

**Cadaver**

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"Remember what happened the last time you brought in a cadaver?" said Fitz, somewhere between anxious and downright angry.

Jemma heaved an irritated sigh as she unzipped the body bag. "No alien virus this time." She laid flat the plastic about the male corpse's torso. "Just a mysterious chest injury. How about this, Fitz?" She gently touched the edge of the gaping hole with a gloved index finger. "Looks like something might have torn him open from the inside, doesn't it?"

Fitz didn't move any closer than his post by the lab door, muttering about how some people never learned.

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	4. Chapter Four

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_**010**_

**Mistletoe**

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"Jemma…"

"Hmm?" She turned away from the interactive hologram to find Fitz blinking up at the ceiling.

"Is that…?"

Jemma followed his gaze. A sprig of mistletoe dangled from the rafters, a conspicuous splash of colour against grey.

"Not mine," she said with certainty.

There was a brief pause before they looked at each other.

"Skye," was the simultaneous and conclusive answer.

"How about we indulge in a little pay-back?" suggested Fitz, grinning.

Jemma nodded thoughtfully. "Stick it above that one particular table she and Ward play Battleship on. But first…" She planted a kiss on Fitz' cheek. "Merry Christmas."

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_**011**_

**Imposter**

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"This isn't you," says Fitz tremulously as Jemma straddles his lap, the skirt she's wearing riding higher up her milky thighs. He swallows and averts his eyes to the ceiling.

"Of course it is, silly," Jemma purrs. She teases a curl that's strayed onto his forehead, twirling it around an index finger. "A better version of me."

He latches onto her wrist hard enough that he's sure it hurts. She doesn't flinch. "I want the old Jemma back," he practically growls. "Now."

The imposter smiles, a sinister echo of Jemma's. She leans forward, whispers in his ear: "Not just yet."

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_**012**_

**The Date**

(Set during FitzSimmons' Academy years.)

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"I don't know what you see in him," called Fitz. He was sprawled across the width of Jemma's bed, staring sulkily at the ceiling.

"He's nice," came Jemma's breezy response from the bathroom. A moment later she opened the door fully and stepped through. "What do you think?"

Fitz did a double take. He'd always thought Jemma was pretty, but tonight she looked positively stunning in a floral summer dress and mid-heeled sandals. Her hair fell in loose, artful curls to her shoulders; her makeup understated.

Fitz forced a smile as he stood. "Joseph Petrenko's a lucky man."

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A/N: I've had a few requests for an extension of 'Imposter', so watch this space ;)


	5. Chapter Five

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_**013**_

**The Importance of Knocking**

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"Simmons, where did you put-"

Fitz only got the briefest glimpse of Jemma's bra before she shrieked and grasped a shirt to her front, but it was enough to ingrain the image on his brain.

"Fitz! Don't you knock?!"

He quickly turned his back on her, spluttering. "Well, I, what are you even _doing_ undressing at this hour?"

"I spilt iced tea on myself. Now if you'd kindly get out and shut the door after you."

Fitz did as told, staring abashedly at the floor while trying, and failing, to cast the lacy pink-and-cream garment from his mind.

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_**014**_

**Twister**

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"Okay. Fitz…" Skye leans over Jemma's outstretched arm and spins the Twister dial. "…Right foot yellow."

"Oh hell," breathes the engineer, taking a moment to weigh his options before shooting Jemma a thoughtful glance.

"I know what you're thinking, and _don't you dare_. You'll overbalance us both."

"I like a little risk-taking," retorts Fitz with an impish grin. Sticking his tongue out in concentration, he loops his right leg over Jemma's middle, bringing them face-to-face.

"See? Nothing to…" He trails off, suddenly very aware of Jemma's torso brushing his own. "Er…"

Skye snorts from Jemma's side. "Jeez. Get a room."

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_**015**_

**Turncoat**

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"It can't be…" murmured Jemma as the security footage sharpened.

Skye looked at her in surprise. "You know the guy?"

At that moment the computer chirped, telling them that the facial recognition software had run its course. A new window opened automatically.

"Joseph Petrenko," read Coulson aloud. "SHIELD Bio-Chemist. Died in a lab explosion, 2010."

"Turncoat," concluded Ward coldly.

Fitz had been watching Jemma the entire time and was fast on her heels when she fled the room.

"Jemma, wait." He gently took her arm, held her close as she turned to sob against his chest.

"Centipede. How could he?"

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End file.
